A/N: Hiiiii everyone. So, yeah, this chapter is kinda late. Pretty late. I wound up having to re-write a bunch of it and there were a good few days when I sat to work on it and nothing happened. Plus I wasted a night researching for an art job that fell through, so that made me feel pretty dumb. Hoping the next chapter works out better! Happy Independence Day tomorrow for you Americans, and happy July for the rest of you.
XxKeyOfHeartxX, Thanks for your review! Yeah, I wanted to address Arachne as a suspect, I felt like it would be weird if they never brought her up. ForeverACharmedOne, Thanks for talking about this chapter a bit with me, it did help me finally get parts of it done. I'm glad you enjoyed the conversation with Cupid last chapter, I did too. wingedwitchember, Haha, I can guaruntee if she were the Muse of Happy Endings, Melpomene would never not tease her about that. FleurSuoh, Tanairy Cornelio, iMusicMonstrosity, SandNinjaBunny, and keramikmocca, thank you for your kind words, I really appreciate it.
Eye contact with him made the world spin.
Chapter Fifty-Two: Talking Dreams
There weren't a lot of people that were particularly happy about Rowan's new living arrangement. In fact, the only reason Rowan wasn't more upset about it was because all the details were currently unknown to the slumbering girl, more confused than anything whenever she woke up.
But there was at least one person who saw this as an excellent opportunity. As long as Rowan was safely secured at the North Pole, far from Shadow People who dared not approach North or his aurora borealis signal, the Sandman did not have to provide a protective barrier around the girl.
Pitch Black could not cross a dream sand barrier undetected, but he could easily enter the North Pole without anyone's knowledge. He'd done so in the past, after all. His last opportunity to take advantage of this had been during the ball, when the mortal had wandered far enough away from the Guardians to fall victim to his discouraging words. But as far as nightmares went? Well, it had been much too long since he had presented the girl with one of those.
Nightmares about drowning were not exactly his most creative ventures but they had proven rather effective when it came to her. No visuals were required; everything should be black. There should be uncertainty over which way was up and which way was down, to assure the fear that one may, in fact, be swimming in the completely wrong direction, further and further away from the surface. Panicking, the dreamer holds their breath and panics more.
They awake, gasping for air and heart ready to crash from their chest.
Simple, really.
He scanned the room to assure that it was empty except for the girl. When he was certain he would not be caught, Pitch gracefully emerged from the shadows beneath the bed. He stood tall, with life shining behind his eyes and an unsettling grin set on his face.
"I said I wouldn't interfere with the dreams of children, but you're not a child, are you?" Pitch chuckled, reaching toward the twirling dream sand above her head. He stopped short however, suddenly overcome with the need to cough.
He pulled his hand back, just short of touching the sand and set it to his throat in confusion as he continued to cough and choke. Covering his mouth, he tried to muffle the sound and stay quiet; the last thing he needed was for her to wake up and find him taking advantage of the loopholes in his agreement.
But why was he choking all of a sudden? His eyes darted around the room. Was there someone doing this to him? Usually the Guardians took a more direct route of attacking him with their weapon of choice, not so much magical asphyxiation.
The irony that he was now struggling to breathe while attempting to give a young woman a nightmare about drowning was not lost on him.
His gaze fell to the bundle of slowly burning herbs on the dish atop the bedside table and he backed away, cringing at the sight. "Sage," he coughed. The smell had filled the room but he had barely taken note of it, too focused on his task.
The sage, and whatever else was bundled with it, had no doubt been used to remove any influence of the Shadow People from the room. But its purpose was to cleanse the room of negative spirits in general.
As it turned out, Pitch qualified.
He glanced back at the girl, at the dream sand above her head. All he needed was a second to corrupt it. Her fear had been doing him a world of good since the new moon, and one nightmare in this state would leave him feeling lively for at least a week.
Imagine what he might be able to accomplish in a week.
But when he attempted to reach for the dream sand again, to indulge in a last ditch effort to give her this nightmare despite his struggle with the sage, the doorknob began to turn.
Pitch swore, immediately disappearing into the shadows and out of sight as Jack entered the room, oblivious to the struggling Boogeyman that had just departed. The dream sand remained untouched.
Traveling through the shadows, Pitch re-emerged in his lair, breathing easier now and still swearing softy.
"What happened?" Melpomene asked, seated on his throne and barely glancing his way from the globe. Her faint moonbeam, as well as Pitch's, lurked behind the chair, close to Melpomene, but not too close.
"Someone smudged the room," Pitch said as though the statement left a bitter taste in his mouth. He approached the chair and stood beside it, eying the globe as he went.
"Smudged it?" Confusion crossed Melpomene's features for no more than a moment. "Oh, that ritual with the sage. Was it that bad?" He nodded.
"I was going to turn her dream into a nightmare anyway but Frost, as always, ruins my plans by showing up at the worst moment," Pitch scowled.
"Of course," Melpomene sighed. "I won't be able to do anything either, I imagine, not until it wears off a bit."
"All the wasted opportunity. Just how long as she been asleep?"
"They think she woke up a few times, but it's always when no one's around to assess the damage. But the new moon was two nights ago, so," Melpomene said.
"Two days—" Pitch started.
"One and a half, more like," Melpomene shrugged.
"One and a half days, then, of sleeping and dreaming and not a single nightmare," Pitch said, shaking his head. "What a waste."
"I wonder who smudged the room? I want to say Poly, but…" Melpomene said, her expression thoughtful as she stood from her seat.
"I thought it was the rabbit, what with his extensive garden," said Pitch.
"Oh, probably," Melpomene sighed. "Whoever it was, with any luck they won't keep up with it or find out the effect it has on you."
"Just as long as the Mortal Muse stays as terrified as she is now, this will only be a minor setback."
Rowan had hoped that if she got enough sleep her headache would improve. As she released her grip on her necklace and grabbed the side of her head, she found that this was not the case. She whined softly, eyes closed tight.
Her stomach growled. When was the last time she had eaten something? That couldn't be helping her headache either, she realized. She had barely been keeping hydrated. The last time she had water was the last time she had woken up. Still alone, still dizzy, she had poured another clumsy glass before passing out again, still clutching her necklace.
Before that, she had woken to find that someone had left a plate of cookies near the water pitcher and burning herbs. It had confused her more than anything. Why cookies? Who had left them?
North, probably. He's Santa Claus after all, was the answer her confused mind had provided. She hadn't questioned it much further than that, as they had looked wonderful. Some were lovingly iced, others with chocolate centers and golden brown edges.
She'd had every intention of eating some, but her stomach had turned the moment she reached her trembling hand toward the tray. A stumbling trip to the bathroom ended in vomiting up something like tar.
The bathroom counter had been slightly different that time, however. The extra toothbrush in the twin pack she had purchased had somehow appeared, alongside her half-empty tube of toothpaste. She had spent little time worrying about how they had gotten there, instead taking advantage and brushing away the taste left behind by that black, inky substance.
When she'd collapsed back into bed, she had barely heard the door open again before passing out once more.
How long ago was that now? The clock on the mantle had served as a poor reference of time, as it was far enough away to be difficult to see with her pupils still expanding and contracting strangely. All she knew was that the room was always dim, and the outside was always dark when she woke up. Every single time.
Rowan supposed it didn't really matter how long it had been since the last time she woke up or the time she had woken up before that. She needed to eat something and stop sleeping at some point either way.
She cracked her eyes open again and was immediately taken by surprise. Each time before, she had woken to an empty room, but now it seemed this was not the case. Someone was occupying the armchair beside the bed.
Jack was sleeping, his head propped on one hand, the other dangling off the arm of the chair closest to her. Even with the eerie glow everything had thanks to whatever was wrong with her vision, seeing him was a comfort.
And yet, it still didn't make sense. She saw him and immediately thought, Jack Frost is real. The Guardians are real. The thoughts appeared as though they were natural reflexes, but she had never gone out of her way to remind herself of such things when seeing Jack before.
That was all beside the point that Jack Frost being real, and her believing as much, didn't make any sense. Science could explain cold weather and frost patterns on windows. A boy with a staff didn't dictate when snow days would occur or whether or not the streets were coated in ice.
And yet, the dark part of her mind that insisted this was growing quiet. She knew he was real. When she had been convinced that he wasn't, it had destroyed her. She needed magic to be real. She needed him to be real.
But how did she know? Was seeing really believing? She felt suspicious of the thoughts insisting that he was real. They didn't feel like they were entirely her own.
It felt like a dream.
Her eyes widened at the thought. Yes. A dream, a crazy, elaborate dream. That had to be it. Maybe she was starting to question everything because she was getting ready to wake up.
Everything was real. The workshop in the North Pole, the man that ran it. The man in the moon, the man with the chariot that tended to the sun. The boy with the magic staff, the fairy that collected teeth, the women that inspired the great creative minds of the world: they were all real.
They were all real, that is, provided that this was all a dream.
That was why she believed in all of it despite having every reason not to. She was trapped in some waking dream that had been going on much too long.
For a brief moment, she was relieved. For a brief moment her shoulders relaxed, and she breathed easy. She had her answer, a perfectly logical answer that explained absolutely everything. But the moment her eyes fell back to the sleeping boy in the armchair, she tensed again, heart racing.
If it were a dream, she'd have to wake up at some point. If magic and Jack Frost only existed because this was a dream, it meant he would not be there when she stopped dreaming.
Her answer suddenly wasn't so comforting.
She hated being confused. She hated not being able to trust her own thoughts. But if the alternative was "waking up" to clarity and concrete knowledge of what was and was not real in a world where Jack Frost was just a myth…
The thought was terrifying. But it was all that made sense. It was the only way any of this could be real.
When she stopped dreaming, it wouldn't be. It would all be gone, including Jack. She couldn't dream forever.
Blinking back tears, Rowan reached a trembling hand forward, toward Jack's hand closest to her, still resting on the arm of the chair. She set her hand atop his, the feeling of his cold skin familiar. All she wanted was to touch him, to feel that he was real, even if it was only in a dream.
She still loved him, after all. That didn't just go away.
Jack stirred awake at her touch, looking puzzled for a moment before his eyes fell to her hand resting atop his. Sitting up straight, the boy seemed suddenly alert, eyes wide as he glanced her way. He swallowed, nervous.
Eye contact with him made the world spin. She quickly shut her eyes again, groaning as her head pulsed with sharp pain. Cold fingers brushed hair from her face.
"Rowan?" Jack said. His voice was different, a bit hoarse. She opened her eyes again. He had leaned over to get a closer look at her. He was speaking to her, touching her, leaving her to believe that he was entirely real… only to remember, this is a dream.
"Can you hear me?" he asked, adjusting his grip on her hand.
"Yes," she said, barely above a whisper.
"Can you see me?" he asked, concern clear on his face. Closer now, he became easier to examine. There was a cut on his forehead that looked fairly deep, mended with butterfly bandages. He looked utterly exhausted, with dark circles beneath his eyes.
What had happened to him?
"Yes," she mumbled. What was she supposed to do? What did you do when you saw your obviously hurt boyfriend after becoming aware that he was part of a waking dream? The only thing she could seem to do was lie there, tears threatening to spill and blurring her already challenged vision.
"Rowan," he said, moving to kneel beside the bed now, at eye level with her. "Hey, it's going to be all right, okay? Does anything hurt?"
What a question that was. It still hurt to move and her head was still pounding, which only seemed to get worse whenever she met his gaze. That was all not counting the emotional hurt she was going through, the cause for the tears.
"Just my head… and my body…" she said, attempting to speak at a normal volume, only to find that her voice wasn't in much better shape than his.
"Do you remember what happened? With the Shadow People and everything?" Jack asked, still eying her as though she were going to break if he weren't careful.
"Yeah, but… everything's kind of a blur after the boy with the wings showed up," Rowan said, carefully and unsteadily pulling herself into a seated position, still grasping his hand. Jack moved to take a seat beside her. Trying to think back to that night she remembered being certain she was going to die.
Was she still dying? What if she died before she woke up?
"That was Cupid," Jack said pulling her from that train of thought and back to the winged boy she remembered. It made sense within the context of the dream at least. Cupid had shown up before, after all, when this illusion had taken her to the ball where he had been present.
But the fact that the fantastic events in this dream made sense did not change the fact that is was a dream. She wiped at her eyes, hoping to dry them before the tears had a chance to spill.
"He had to carry you back here because I could barely fly myself at that point and then we found out that the Shadow People got you to stop believing so I wouldn't have been able to carry you out of there anyway," Jack continued, squeezing her hand tighter with a small smile. "But it looks like you believe again. The Muses weren't sure it would be permanent."
Rowan wasn't sure what the Muses had to do with this, but that small smile that pulled at his lips crushed her heart, knowing full well that she didn't believe the way he wanted her to. She only believed because this was a dream.
"I don't want to talk about Shadow People or the Muses or Cupid or any of that," she said, stopping to brace herself and breathe deep before continuing. "I just want to sit here and—and know you're real and just be here with you before I—"
"Hey! Hey, I'm not going anywhere, it's okay," Jack said, moving a bit closer to her as she let out a few sobs.
"Until I wake up," Rowan said.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"You're here until I wake up," she said. He reached forward to wipe tears from her eyes, but pulled his hand away when they frosted over instead.
"What do you mean?" he said again. "You are awake!"
"It's the only thing that makes any sense," Rowan said, forcing herself to keep eye contact, despite the ache in her head that followed. "It's the only way all of this can be real. I'm dreaming."
"What?" Jack's face fell and he shook his head. "You're awake, Rowan! This isn't a dream."
"I think it is," she said, using every bit of willpower she had not to completely go into hysterics. "I think I must have been dreaming this whole time. My thoughts don't feel like my own but I'm accepting them anyway. Nothing makes sense, but I know it's true. The only way to explain that, is that I've been brainwashed or that I'm dreaming."
"The Muses tried to get you to believe again after the Shadow people convinced you not to. That must be what that is, that's why you feel brainwashed, your thoughts have been in the middle of a… messed up magical tug-of-war between believing and not believing," Jack said. He was speaking quickly, fearfully, as he cradled her hand in both of his. "This isn't a dream. Rowan, please, believe me."
Rowan remembered becoming convinced that none of the fantastic beings she'd met were real. She remembered waking up knowing full well that they were. It made sense that magical interference in the form of the Muses might have interfered between those two events. It made sense that it might feel the way her thoughts felt now if they were to interfere.
But it still only made sense assuming everything was a dream. But even in a dream, she hated thinking that her mind had become a plaything. Something to re-program and re-re-program based on what was most beneficial to whichever magical being at the time.
Ever since this fantastic dream had begun, it had been clear that Rowan was not a player in this game, but the object.
"Rowan?" Jack said again. It seemed she'd stopped to consider what the Muses had done for longer than she thought.
Did it really matter what they'd done? When she stopped dreaming they'd be gone.
"I want to believe this isn't a dream. I want to know that if I wake up you'll be here. I want to know that—know that everything that happened over the past few weeks really happened and that you won't just vanish when I eventually come to, but…" Rowan said, tears rolling down her face. "But this has to be a dream. And more than anything I wish it wasn't."
"It isn't!" Jack said. "This is reality. I'm here, and you're here, and this is all real, okay? Please. Please, Rowan, I love you, don't—don't convince yourself that I don't exist."
Her heart raced, much the same way it had raced the first time he had told her that he loved her. But there was no joy this time, no excitement. Just fear of disappointing him, fear of losing him.
"I love you too, I really do," she said, brushing away tears from her cheeks. "You're… you're everything I always dreamed of."
"I'm not a dream!"
"And how can I be sure of that?" she asked. "Just because I want you to exist outside this reality I've created doesn't mean you will. I need you to be real but that doesn't mean that you are."
The moment those last few words were uttered, his hands seemed to slip straight through hers, like a ghost. She jumped in surprise at the sight. In panic, he grabbed for her shoulders, keeping a firm grasp on them once it was clear he could.
"Stop talking yourself out of believing, stop!" he said desperately. There was clear sadness, desperation in his eyes, which only provoked more tears to spill from hers. "Tell me what I have to do, okay? Just tell me what I have to do to convince you that this isn't a dream."
"I don't… I don't know," Rowan said weakly. How could you tell if you were dreaming or not? "I'm sorry, I love you, I'm sorry."
"Your love for me is real, isn't it? Why is it so hard to believe that I am, too?" Jack said.
"People fall in love with fictional characters all the time, Jack," Rowan said.
"How often are the feelings returned?" he asked.
"Obviously you don't read fan fiction," said Rowan, shaking her head. "No one else… my parents, my classmates, no one else can see you. The photos are staged—"
"Yeah, by Thalia! With magic—"
"Only other mythical beings ever acknowledge you—"
"Jamie saw me—!"
"Jamie and I both have overactive imaginations—"
Rowan jumped again as Jack's hands slipped through her shoulders. He pulled his hands away before cautiously setting them back where they had been before, making contact with her again. Was he blinking back tears?
"Listen to me, Rowan, each of those kids in Burgess can see me, how do you explain that? Do you really think that Jamie would have gotten all of them to go along with pretending they could see one of his imaginary friends? For this long?" he said, speaking quickly as though he were going to run out of time.
"No," she said. He was blowing holes in her theories. He was right; the photos were staged with magic. And the kids? Children would never keep up a game like that for this long. "But they would if it was a dream."
"But if it's not a dream, it means that I have to be real, doesn't it? The kids couldn't see me if you were hallucinating me or something. If this is not a dream, that means that all of this has to be real and you can stop trying to rationalize it. Right?" Jack said.
Rowan bit her lip and hesitated. If it wasn't a dream, and it wasn't a series of hallucinations, the only option left was that it was real. "Yes," she said finally. "But I would have to be sure this is absolutely not a dream. How would I do that?"
Jack glanced away briefly in thought. She could tell he was scrambling before snapping his attention back to her. "Fingers," he said at once.
"What?"
"You don't have the right amount of fingers in dreams," Jack said. Rowan wasn't sure she'd ever paid much attention to her fingers in dreams. She wanted to take his word for it, but couldn't help feeling skeptical.
The girl glanced down at her hands, spreading her fingers and straining a bit in the hopes that the odd, haloing effect that had taken over her vision would subside a little. She counted each of them carefully. She met his eyes, "Ten."
"See, so you're awake," Jack said. Rowan sighed glancing back down at her hands, still with ten digits and entirely unconvincing. "Not enough?"
She shook her head, wiping her eyes again. As she lowered her hand, she stopped short, pulling the nightgown sleeve back slightly. There was a dream she'd had about Jack that was absolutely, without a doubt, a dream. It was the dream where he had been mortal, when they had wandered off to that small pond in Burgess. At the start of the dream, she'd taken note that her tattoo was missing.
Two stars, the one on the right slightly larger, were currently present and accounted for on her left wrist when she pulled back her sleeve. Did that count? Her heart raced as she considered this.
Jack had not noticed her examining her wrist, having grabbed a canvas bag from beside the bag and begun to sort through it. Had the bag been there before? Or had the dream (if this was one) provided it because it was necessary?
He pulled out her notebook and her eyes lit up at the sight. "I got your notebook from your apartment. I'm sorry I had to go in there without getting your permission, but you were kind of unconscious."
"That's fine. You didn't read it, did you?" she asked, as though that were the most important issue at this moment.
"Of course not," he said, offering the book to her. She took it, savoring the feeling of it being back in her hands. "But you're going to, right now."
"How will that help me prove this isn't a dream? If this is all a dream, what I wrote in here would have been written while I was dreaming—" she started.
"You know how sometimes the alarm on your cell phone goes off in the morning and you complain about how the words on the screen aren't in English when you try to set it to snooze?" Jack said.
"Right, because—… because I'm not really awake yet," Rowan said. It had happened several times, even before she'd met Jack. It was usually a pretty decent indication that she was not anywhere near awake enough to deal with the real world because she was still dreaming.
"You can't read in dreams. The words get jumbled, they change, they don't make any sense," Jack said, gesturing to the notebook. "So if you can read what's in there, that means this is not a dream, right?"
"Right," Rowan said, fingering the notebook and not quite focusing on it yet. It also meant that the times she'd read it in the past, when she'd referenced it for notes on her story while telling Jack or Jamie the next part, or when she'd tried to sort out her thoughts about loving Jack, had all actually happened. She'd been awake for all of it.
She glanced at the tattoo on her wrist again, still completely visible.
Her stomach turned. It had all been real hadn't it? But what about right here and right now? With her jumbled thoughts and constant confusion? She still didn't understand why she was at the North Pole or why she was wearing this nightgown or where the crystals or the burning herbs had come from. Was this a dream?
"If you can read what's in there, I'm real. All of this is real," said Jack.
And if she couldn't, this was all more complicated than she had initially thought. Rowan wiped at her eyes again and nodded slowly. Nervously, she opened the book to a random page and waited for her vision to adjust enough for her to make out what was written there.
If Jack were here, he'd say I'm over-thinking it. But he wouldn't be surprised. I worry. I over-think. It's just the way I am.
She briefly glanced back up at him before glancing back down at the page.
If Jack were here, he'd say I'm over-thinking it. But he wouldn't be surprised. I worry. I over-think. It's just the way I am.
The words read exactly the same. The letters were all in the correct order; it was English as she recognized it and completely comprehensible. She closed the book and set it aside, unsure how to take this.
This was it. This proved that she was not currently dreaming, and past instances with the book involving Jack proved that she hadn't been dreaming then. It completely eliminated her idea that she was in a waking dream.
Jamie's friends seeing Jack proved that he wasn't a story she'd taken too far, that she hadn't been hallucinating. They eliminated her "I'm clearly a delusional storyteller that got too caught up in a story," method of thinking that had started all this confusion in the first place.
The only option left was that Jack Frost was completely, one hundred percent real.
But as she considered the kids in Burgess being proof that she hadn't imagined him, she remembered the whole reason she had begun to think that way in the first place. If Jack Frost and all her memories with him were real, it meant that the Shadow People were real as well. Every terrible thing involving them had, indeed, happened.
If it was true that the Shadow People had compelled her to stop believing, it was true that the Muses had compelled her to believe again. It meant that it was their combined effort that left her thoughts spinning and confused every time she woke up in this room. It meant that her mind truly had become something of a mythological plaything and she truly could not trust that the thoughts she had were her own. She had in a sense been brainwashed.
It all hit her at once, the relief and joy that came with confirmation of Jack's existence outside her dreams, and the grief and panic at everything else. It was all real, and all Rowan could do in response was sob, both overjoyed and completely terrified at the notion.
"Rowan?" Jack said hesitantly, setting a cautious hand to her shoulder again. She realized she hadn't told him if she could read the notebook or not, instead setting it aside and finally breaking into the hysterical sobs that had been threatening to escape the entire conversation. That couldn't have come across as a good sign for him.
"I'm awake. You're real," she managed to say between sobs before closing the distance between them with a trembling, clumsy kiss. He took no more than a second to respond, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss. Her tears froze again the closer she came to him, but re-melted due to her own body heat soon enough.
"I'm sorry," she said when they broke away. "I just… nothing's made any sense. I'm sorry I doubted. I'm sorry I ever stopped believing. I'm so sorry. I swear I didn't want to."
He kissed her again, seeming thrilled that he could. "It isn't your fault, the Shadow People manipulated you. I'm sorry about that. I'm so sorry, Rowan, I should have been there," he said, still holding her close to him. He loosened his grip the next moment, however, as soon as her breath fogged before her. "None of this was supposed to happen."
Rowan thought back to the night of the new moon, unable to silence her sobs as she did. She'd been able to mostly avoid it the last few times she'd woken up, too scatter-brained, confused and exhausted to dwell on it much. But as she did now, she remembered the worry, the terror, the dread and the emptiness. It all came rushing back, demanding more tears from the girl. Gently pushing strands of hair from the gash on his forehead, she choked between sobs, "What did happen? Where were you and why was Cupid there?"
"I was in France. They mimicked Tooth's voice, calling out for help. I was suspicious because I've been pulled in by this trick before but I was worried about what might happen if I didn't check it out and it was her. It wasn't. I flew too close to the ground and they knocked me down, that's how I got this," Jack said, gesturing to the cut. "They knocked my staff away and stalled me there for hours before Cupid happened to find me and pull me out of there. I was really weak and not much use to anyone at that point so he helped me get back to you, but by the time we got there the Shadow People were already at work on you. After I chased them off long enough for Cupid to grab you, we brought you here."
"I remember hearing Cupid's side of the conversation," Rowan said. It made sense now, the boy with the wings talking about flying off somewhere else. Talking to what seemed like no one. She felt guilt tug at her heart again, knowing now that it was Jack that he had been talking to, and she couldn't hear or see him because she'd stopped believing.
"I'm so sorry, Rowan, I'm so sorry I wasn't there earlier," he said.
"I was worried something happened to you," she said, eying the cut on his forehead again. She was sure it would look even worse if she could see properly. "I knew you wouldn't be that late unless something happened. I'm just glad you're okay."
Aside from looking a little banged up and having a voice to match, he seemed physically fine.
"They could have killed you, they would have if Cupid hadn't shown up. I just… I'm so angry at myself, that I wasn't there to help you earlier because I fell for a stupid trick. Again," he said.
"It's not a stupid trick," she said, her sobs having calmed at least a little. "And you were with me, in a way."
"What do you mean?" Jack said.
Rowan pulled the necklace out from beneath the nightgown's collar and held the charm up for him to see. "The necklace you gave me."
"The stardust worked?" he said, eyes lighting up.
"The stardust worked," she nodded. "They tried to get to my spirit through my heart, but the necklace lit up and defended me every time they tried."
"That's why they only had a hold on your arms and legs," he said. She nodded again.
"It bought me some time after they cornered me," Rowan said. "Pretty and functional."
"But why did you leave the barrier? I still don't understand why you were in that parking lot," Jack said. Rowan's heart raced again as she thought of the hasty retreat from the apartment building.
"They were inside the barrier," she said, her voice small. Jack hadn't been the only one tricked that night. "Said they got there by traveling through shadows during the day. I don't think they were going to hurt me while I was in there, they just wanted to herd me out where the rest of them were."
Jack groaned. "It's nice to see just how thoroughly our plan failed."
"At least we both got through it alive?" she offered, wiping her tears away the best she could before moving closer to him again. Arms placed securely around him, she allowed her sore body to just lean into the boy and savor the fact that he was solid and real.
"In a manner of speaking. When you stopped believing you were going through the stages of hypothermia," he said, avoiding eye contact as he gently pulled her arms away from him, leaving her puzzled. "The fires here are magic so they weren't doing you any good."
"Well, we've already established that I've still got all ten fingers so I'm okay, right?" Rowan said, brow furrowed. Showing up at the pole was still a blur, though she did remember feeling cold and wondering when she was going to die.
She had thought of death a lot that night.
"I don't want to cause you any more trouble because of the cold," he said with a frown, inching away from her. Her heart sank as he hesitantly released her hand from his grasp.
"Jack, don't," she said, unable to help her voice cracking as she spoke.
"I've watched countless people die of hypothermia, and I thought I was going to have to watch you, too. I don't know how much of your current condition is because of that or the Shadow People and I don't want to make it worse," Jack said, his face showing nothing short of regret. "I wasn't thinking before. I honestly shouldn't have even kissed you, I just… all I can do is keep you cold."
"Jack, every time I've woken up in this room before this I've been alone," Rowan said frantically, closing her eyes as they had begun to ache between her tears and the movement of the pupils. "I've been confused, and sore, and sick. And before I turned up here? Nothing was real. My entire world was gone as far as I knew."
"I'm sorry—"
"I'm tired," she said, opening her eyes again. "And I'm starving. And I can't stop crying. And now I can't even take comfort in the fact that my boyfriend is, in fact, real, because he's afraid of giving me hypothermia when he's never come close before."
"Rowan, I just—"
"You're just looking out for me, you just don't want to hurt me. That's great. That's really thoughtful, it is. But Jack," she paused, still crying softly. She felt silly for what she was about to say, but she was already a sobbing mess, there wasn't much that could be done to make that worse. "I'm scared about everything that happened and right now I just need someone to hold me a hell of a lot more than I need someone to keep me warm."
Jack sighed, watching the sobbing girl with those sad eyes that only prompted more tears from her.
In the next moment, the boy moved closer again, pulling her into his arms once more. She leaned into his cold embrace, sliding her arms tightly around him again. It was true; he was cold. Her breath fogged before her and as her tears rolled off her cheeks and into his jacket, they froze.
But the feeling was familiar, and so, so comforting. He still smelled like pine, and the temperature difference was the first thing that had actually managed to sooth her pounding headache.
"I never know what to do when you cry," he mumbled.
"This works," she sighed, tightening her grip on him. "This is all such a mess."
"Tell me about it," Jack said. "Next time I suggest we play hookey, we're playing hookey."
Rowan couldn't help but laugh slightly through the tears. It was true, if Jack had blown off his other responsibilities and if she had ditched school to stay in with him, the new moon might have gone quite differently.
Her smile quickly faded, however, as she suddenly realized something, pulling away from him enough to properly look him in the face. "What day is it?" she asked. How long had she been there?
"Sunday," he said. "Well, Sunday night, anyway. It's hard to tell because it's always dark here this time of year."
"Oh!" Rowan said, seeming relieved as she set her head back against his shoulder. "Good, good, that means I haven't missed school yet. I don't have anything due tomorrow so I won't have to worry about that but I'll have to scramble to get my sketches ready for Tuesday— oh, ouch, my head."
She closed her eyes and groaned, leaving Jack to wince as he watched her. "I hope this headache eases up by then," she mumbled.
Jack bit his lip before saying gently, hesitantly, "Rowan, you can't go back to class tomorrow."
"No, no, it's okay, I can walk… kind of. I sit for most of the day anyway. I just have to make sure I don't fall asleep in the middle of class since I've only been able to stay awake for a short while at a time. We're only doing preliminary work now so it doesn't really matter that my eyes have been acting up as long as I can still see. I'll have to come up with some kind of cover story, of course. Bad cold ought to do it," Rowan said, stopping to cover her mouth and cough. She'd spoken with such speed her throat had finally protested painfully.
"Well, I mean besides the fact that leaving this bed is a bad idea right now," Jack said. "You're not allowed to leave the North Pole."
Rowan's eyes widened. "What do you mean I'm not allowed to leave the North Pole? I have to go to class, I can't stay here!"
"Well, Apollo and Manny have relieved me of my responsibilities as your guard," Jack confessed, her heart sinking as he stated as much. "They said that you, Erato, and Polyhymnia are not allowed to leave the pole until the Shadow People are no longer a threat. Unfortunately, the soonest we can try and take care of them is the full moon."
"When's that?" she demanded.
"Two weeks," Jack said.
This couldn't be happening. Rowan shook her head, feeling tears filling her eyes again. "Jack, I can't miss two weeks of school. They'll withdraw me from my classes for non-attendance if they don't just automatically flunk me. I'll fall a full semester behind, I…"
She had never failed anything, she had never missed a deadline much less fallen a whole semester behind. She had a plan, she had a purpose, and that was to finish school on time, with honors. She liked her plan, and for a while it had been unaffected by magic. For a while it was a distraction from magic. When she was at school, no one knew she was the Mortal Muse and no one cared. She could just draw and study and try to forget the dark creatures trying to kill her.
But now here she was.
"I'll have to do a summer semester, but that means I can't work full-time like I did last summer to make rent, and it means I won't get a break between my next three semesters and… I wonder if I'll get my tuition back for this one," she groaned, leaning into Jack again, unsure of what else to do.
"I'm sorry," Jack said again, resting his head against hers. "But at least as long as you're here, you're safe."
"But class was the only break I got from all of this…" she said, more to herself than to him.
If she had thought magic was interfering with her life a lot before, it was painfully obvious now how mistaken she had been.
